The following is a log of roleplay on Star Stones MOO, logged by Dallaney.
All references to the world and characters of Pern™ based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright© 1967 by Anne McCaffrey, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern® is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey and used here with permission.

Candidates party by the weyr's lake shore.
Attendees: Aire, Dallaney, Aline, Chalis, Mikani, Siobhan, Eyochai, Hotaru

Weyr Lake Shore

Sand stretches from bowl's floor to water smoothly, leaving a mere lapping of
slight waves to slap against the shoreline. The sand is left less packed here
than it is in the bowl, the soft sand underfoot opening onto the Weyr's
oasis. Mirror-like water can reflect merciless sun into the eyes of the
unwary, but the bold colors of a sunset casting colors against the lake makes
this a much-favored spot. Far to the northwest, the hurry of the living
cavern area is left behind and the warmth that penetrates through a weary
body on the unshaded shore rivals that of the hatching grounds to the
northeast.

Aire is here.
The following dragons are here: Vhenoth, Sindrath, Vraelleth, Peyth, and
Chaddyth
From here you can go:
Center Bowl               Shallows
Weyrling Grounds          Feeding Grounds

The current weather report:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IgenW: Center Bowl Area (#5491)
The sky is clear and bright without a cloud to be seen. Belior is waning from
a full moon and Timor is a quarter full. It is a fall night.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dallaney has arrived.

Dallaney treads into the vicinity of the lake into a scene of slight confusion
-- the drudges who moved the large table earlier decided to rest it near the
sloping shoreline, and the constant activity has caused the thing to tilt
violently; there could be a landslide if they're not careful -- she's
steering a big-boned girl who's juggling with a stack of plates. The litany
drifts in, "...Careful with those. Don't trip, now, or those will get dirty."

Dallaney
Short, slightly gaunt around the edges, this adolescent bears Igen's glare in
the burnt brownness of her skin. Uncertain growth has worked away the
childish plumpness from the avid angles of nose and chin, further accenting
pinched features with their harsh planes and abrupt peaks. Below forehead's
darkness, a primal acidity informs her hazel eyes, restrained by stubborn
mahogany curls -- but flaring inevitably into the compact rebellion of a
muscled shape and habitually agile motion.
A robe of light brown, barely feminine, covers most of her long-legged, spare
shape, sending any hints of figure into obscurity. Of Igen make but
self-styled, the linen material sheers ungracefully just above bony kneecaps,
hitched up in folds to allow easier wear and lighter travel. An ungainly, if
quaint, umber belt winds around her waist, binding cloth to flesh and holding
up the robe in ragged manner, keeping it dipping into the dark sandals that
flicker out far below its hem.
A single cord sits on her shoulder, twirling from bedraggled grey to the
pristine white of candidacy.
She is awake and looks alert.
Hustling, bustling, she - or he - is just one of the crowd now.
[15 Turns, 2 Months, and 16 Days]

Aire wanders in looking horribly self-concious in someone else's bikini top.
Someone rather better well-endowed appears to have been the owner of this
before it was bestowed upon her by a well-wisher. This is tugged at
nervously, as if it were about to reveal her lack of bosom, as are baggy
shorts; no cleavage of any sort shall show. Aiming towards Dallaney, she
heaves a sigh of relief as she spots the table and plates. "Whew. And I
thought I had been set up," comes the mutter. "Need any help?" shrill voice
calls, parade-grounds style, towards Dallan.

Aire
Sharp but round - bony but sculpted - Aire's face is still undeniably that of
a kidlet's. Eyes sparkle like sun off white-capping waves - a mischevious
sparkle, to be sure - with a slight upward lilt and a sensible ammount of
framing lashes. Thin nose leads to thin lips, the latter a cheerful cherry
red against her skin's rather conspicuous lack of tanned hue. Close-cropped
curls cap Aire's head with their dark auburn swirls, patiently groomed into a
ring of spit-curls around the edges of face and yet are subject to such
abuses that they require constant attention to stay that way.
For one so short, Aire's chosen quite a bit of fabric to drape her boney form
with. Empasizing the natural emaciation is a tank-sleeved tunic, hanging from
her narrow shoulders and drooping at the neck to reveal a prominent
collarbone. Faded yellow bunches around belted pant, spilling over one side
and hanging about sharp, straight hips hidden in the bags of sturdy,
multi-pocketed trousers - small enough in the waist, they lack reciprocally
in inseam, stopping somewhere below her knees and showing off stick-like
calves. Closest to the groud, sky lurks, in the form of ankle-socks proudly
showing through the fastening straps of sandals; a fashion statement, perhaps?
A single loop remains, but this of fresh white, dubbing her dragon-poo
shoveler and tuber peeler until the eggs hatch.
Aire may look a few Turns younger than she is, but mannerisms and general
moodiness suggest blooming adoloscence.
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Unctuous

Dallaney can do parade-ground style. She hollers back to Aire, ignoring the
bikini. "Sure! Get them to move the table. I haven't been able to make
these dimglows do it." And no wonder, in light of her impatience in
directing the red-haired drudge. "Put it on the table. Beside that pot.
The one with the tubers." She doesn't have to do everything herself, does
she?

Aire nods at the orders from Dallan, and somehow manages to get her skinny
self around the right side of the table while using her elbows, armpits, and
pectoral muscles to keep her bikini in place. "Alright, wait! I just --!
Eek!" There's a most un-grrrly squeak as the pot slides dangerously. Some
deft maneuvers, a thrust of her hip, and the table settles with all things in
place and in one piece. The girl sighs, a hand wiping the back of her brow in
relief.

The plates set up quite a clatter, but they make it to the table in good
shape. Dallan's relief is almost palpable as she dashes to accost the next
one in line. "Sandwiches, right?" The cooks are working hard for this bash,
and one might wonder ... "There. You got it, Aire?" the teenager shouts back
to her fellow candidate, even as the drudge teeters towards the table.

Mikani has arrived.

"I, er, thinks so?" Aire calls over her shoulder towards Dallan, peering at
the bustling candidates helplessly, hands at her side. She is no great
organizer, slowly shuffling towards the background from the near-debacle with
the table. "What... exactly /is/ this?" she asks of a passing candidate - the
one who dropped off the plates - because no one bothered to inform /her/.

They just keep streaming in, the overladen plates of meal, trays of
sweetmeats. There're even the greens someone tossed in amidst coloured
confectionaries. The drudges pass back and forth in busy succession; there's
first the stretch of sparse sand to cross, then a slope you have to skitter
down to reach the food-table.

"We're having a party," Dallan informs, striding nearer to Aire, to peer at
her through beady eyes. "Just as soon as the things are set up." She
gestures restlessly at the servitors and their ragged, snaking progress,
"Hurry up, you!"

Mikani just looked at you.

Chalis has arrived.

Aire bites her tounge, refraining from commenting that the party factor was
obvious. "Oh. Well, that explains the table and the plates, then," she
remarks with more than a little sarcasm, rocking on her bare heels in the
sands with hands behind her back. This takes some skill, as sand is a lot
more yeilding than hard floor, but she manages to lift a hand to wave towards
the approaching Chalis.

Chalis just looked at you.

Dallaney is rather good at stating the obvious. "Yeah," she drawls back at
Aire, then offers a cautious grin to the candidates coming in. ""Lo Heida.
Hey, 'Ray." By now most of the trays are in and are being arranged on the
table. She prods at another passing weyrbrat, "Nice to see you got away from
chores, Eli."

Chalis comes wandering in, idily playing with the sleeves of her dress. The
dress which only comes out about once every two years. Spotting everyone
else she smiles and waves in their direction before padding over thata way,
"Hello."

Chalis
Warm brown eyes look out as you from a rather delicate face. Freckles happily
dance across a small pleasant nose. Shortly cropped blond hair stands in odd
little spikes all across Chalis' head exposing her small elfin ears.
Highlights are noticeable here and there, almost white streaks compared to
the rest of her hair. The hair is closely cut in the back and left a little
longer near the front so she can spike it. Every so often the few highlights
still noticeable catch a ray of sun and sparkle slightly in the light. She is
well toned and long limbed but still has a few curves here and there. Her
once rather smooth hands have managed to collect a rather interesting bunch
of calluses from all the washing she's had to do as of late.
Pale ice blues and greens hug her form except for long sheer lace sleeves that
are shaped like bells from the elbows down. The dress is tight around her
middle and the layer of lace continues down to her feet. The lace is dense in
just the right places, hiding yet teasing the eye at the same time. The dress
has a slit up either side that reaches to her knees. On her feet are small
sandals the straps of which run up her legs to around mid shin.
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Min

Aire stands on her toes as she hunts for a certain baker-type candidate, not
spotting him at the moment and having to settle for the next best thing: big,
burly Olaf. Definately over six foot and muscled like a draft horse, the pair
of them look a bit like Penn and Teller, but yet seem to find something to
converse about before the girl drifts towards Chalis with a brief glimmer of
green-eyed jealousy in her otherwise blue eyes. "Lovely dress, Chalis." And
while she's frumped-out, too.

A pack of kids have started attacking the pastries, making quite a din on the
sand. Dallan affords them a scowl before wandering in another direction.
"Hey Chalis." A peek at the dress. She's not going to comment about
another's fashion sense though, so it's greeting and grimace instead. "Those
sweets are good. Just look at them."

Chalis blinks at the grimace and a few other things but simply shrugs it off
and keeps smiling, "Thanks Aire. I should probably use it as a shawl instead
but ah well." She then nods in agreement, "They look good enough to eat.
Which is good because otherwise what would be the point right?" Chalis at
parties, a sight that is rarely seen.

Mikani makes her way over to one of the tables, walking slowly and not a
trifle unsteadily, bowed under the weight of the various meat, fish,
vegetable, and sweet rolls which burden the partitioned tray she carries so
awkwardly away from the front of her Gather-best dress. Tharion follows along
behind with a basket of napkin-wrapped utensils, whistling a cheery little
tune as he swings the basket back and forth. "Hey, watch it, you dim glow!"
Leseela, passing on her way back to the kitchens for some forgotten tidbit,
scolds the weyrbrat imaptiently. "If ye drop 'em, ye wash 'em," warns Mikani.
"I washed them once and won't do it again. Hey, Dallan, Chalis, Aire!" She
nods her head at the three girls before turning to place the tray on an oaken
trestle table.

Mikani
No longer does Mikani's hair crown her head in braided glory. Her dark red
tresses have been shorn to hang to the middle of her back and feather away
from her face flatteringly on the sides, while the front part is a mass of
touseled curls. She's of middling height, about 5 feet and 5 inches tall,
with a generous figure. Her eyes are deepset and are the exact light shade of
new leaves: wideset, they alternate between radiating warmth and mirth in
their openness and narrowing in concentration or displeasure. They are the
windows through which can be seen the fireworks display of an unfettered,
passionate soul. Her face is taking a bronzed cast by the Igen sun, and a
smattering of sunfreckles dusts across her pert nose. Full lips are more
often ready to laugh than frown, humor tracing their upturned curvature. Legs
still retain their musculature, though it's been a few Turns since she's
ridden, walking now being her mode of locomotion.
A translucent pale linen flows around Mikani's legs like drifting snow blown
about on a crystal clear day after a blizzard, the hem teasing the ground but
never quite touching. Slippered feet peek out now and then, an ice-blue
ribbon tied gracefully above her toes. Sleeves follow down the arm, belling
out at the elbows to drape down two handspans from her wrist. The bodice,
made with indigo suede, hugs every curve of her body from shoulder to hips,
with the neckline scooped dramatically, showing nearly everything off to its
best advantage, while leaving plenty for the imagination to hunger on.
A simple loop of pristine white denotes Mikani as a Candidate. WooHoo.
Mikani looks to be in her late teens.
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Mik                                      Dexter

A drudge, hair the colour of dirty mud, is going round offering plates with
little tarts on them. How fancy. By the tables, a girl gushes about these,
rather loudly. Blond pauses near Mikani, tray in hand. Have a cake?

Aire fixes a smile on her face with social superglue as she tugs up one corner
of her bikini band again, trying to ignore Olaf's attention to that
particular area. It disturbs her. "Mikani!" she coos tactfully, "don't you
just look... stunning!" Unlike She Whos Clothes Are Falling Off. Whoever said
it was a beach party is getting a runner's head in their cot tomorrow.

And let's not forget Leseela and Tharion just behind. The drudge offers--
Dallan's keeping her in close scrutiny. Ooh. "Mik," the tomboy herself
calls greeting as she reaches for a mug o' citron.

Siobhan has arrived.

Chalis somehow always sees parties as so formal if they're planed ahead of
time and this one obviously was. With a little wrinkle of her nose she
decides to go grab something to eat. Should keep her mouth full enough she
won't have to say much.

Siobhan strolls in, clearly enjoying the tang of breeze by the lake. She dips
a toe into the water, testing, then with a sigh paddles her feet as she
walks. "Lo there," she greets those already here. "I hope I'm not too early
for dinner?" This said a bit plaintively, as the goldrider eyes the
candidates.

Siobhan
Thick, tight-curled auburn tresses once tumbled haphazardly down her back,
bobbed now into a hazy aureole of tightly corkscrewed curls, framing a
square-jawed face. Plucky seagreen eyes that flash at challenges peer out
from around a rather large Romanesque nose, set proudly above her laughing
mouth. Good natured, but armed with a fiery temper if she feels that an
injustice has been done, Saab is sometimes brusque in manner. She is of
average height, but her well-curved and muscled self is solidly built from
many Turns of hard work as a Tanner's Apprentice. Testament to this fact are
her hands - graced with every possible colour of the rainbow from the dyes of
her trade. Despite her brawn, she is surprisingly light on her feet, and it
is this grace that makes her a sought after dance partner at many a Gather.
Soft seagreen tunic hangs from her shoulders to just above her knees, layered
beneath with a white shirt laced at the neck, and is belted at the waist with
a thick black wherhide belt, imprinted with the design of a hunting dragon
and prey. From the belt hang various implements, including a small but
serviceable beltknife. Striped seagreen and forest green trousers in the same
soft cotton flow into her polished black wherhide boots.
Double cord in maize and jet adorns her shoulder in double loops, fastened
with the pin of a Tanner Journeywoman, and intertwined with a sisal ribbon of
sunset gold to denote her rank as Igen Weyr Jr. Weyrwoman, and the rider of
golden Sayurith.
She appears to be in her early twenties.
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Surfer Banshee
LittleSister
Enraptured by the small bundle of joy that is Shannan, she is radiant and more
than in love with both child and father.

A table has been set near the lake, and there're drudges bustling to and from
it, refilling plates and mugs of varie-coloured drinks. Blond drudge is
giving out dainty tarts with slices of fruit on top. Conversation buzzes
around nearby; some chairs are getting moved in as well.

Aire does a respectful sort of shuffle-bow-grab-the-top-before-it-falls as she
identifies Siobhan, attempting to look both amiable and generally out of the
know of things. "We've got food?" she offers, shoulders hunching up in a
faint shrug as she points towards the laden table.

Siobhan suddenly feels the pull of the meatrolls and wanders out of the lake
and over to the food table, grinning at Aire. "Food, eh?" she echoes, then
stoops to pick up a plate and point out what she'd like to the drudge.
"Everything looks delicious! I'm as hungry as a queen dragon after a
clutching." The goldrider grins and winks at Mikani.

Chalis waves at Saab with half of a meatroll, never one for bowing or saluting
or any of that. Though she does realize that she has a meatroll in her hand
and she quickly drops her hand. She then smiles a bit sheepishly and clears
her throat and finds something else to put in her mouth. She could always
escape to the water if needed.

Dallaney hastily dips her head to Siobhan -- half a bow, in her standards --
even as a gaggle of girls wading in the lake nearly fall over themselves
bowing in the goldrider's wake, only to dissolve into a fit of giggling
afterwards. Dallan puts herself in line for a sandwich. "We're lucky the
cooks were willing to help," she agrees.

Mikani shakes her head at the tart's offer. "No thank you, not right now." she
politely declines. Turning, she blushes slightly at the compliment. "And you
look nice as well." Flush deepens and an eyebrow takes a breif visit to her
hairline at Chalis' outfit, yet her smile deepens. "I really like the lace,
especially on the sleeves. She bows to Siobhan with a
spare-me-the-lecture-please look on her face. She knows not everybody likes
being bowed at, but she will NOT sit through T'im's lecture about ettiquette
again! The pompus git! "Hi there! Nice to see that you /do/ get to leave the
sands occasionally! I thought you were going to have to sit there until the
eggs hatched!" She laughs breezily at Siobhan, coppery lashes slipping down
over her left eye. Tharian bows at the goldrider as well, spilling a wealth
of pastry crumbs onto the sand. The dark-skinned lad flashes a be-berried
smile. "Hey, Saab! Try the bubbly pies... they're swell!"

Siobhan rolls her eyes at Dallaney and winks at Chalis. "Mmmmm, everything's
delicious. And you do /not/ have to bow to me! I started out a holder lass,
and that's what I'll always be. Just call me Saab and ignore the knot.
Better yet..." The queenrider removes the cumbersome knot and stuffs it into
a belt pouch below. "There!"

Aire shuffles through the sand, making slippers of it around her toes as she
moves towards the table in search of sweets. Something glazes and sparkling
with sweetener catchers her eye, and soon it's in her hand and being nibbled.
Plates? Who needs plates? Selfconciousness disappears for a moment, and soon
she's got flakey crust on her cheeks and filling up her nose.

Siobhan has disconnected.

Dallaney eschews the rings of chairs to settle herself and plate on a mat
instead, back facing the shore to avoid the sprays of water the younger ones
are sending up. "C'mon, have a seat," she invites some of those still
standing -- Chalis with her meatroll, flakey Aire, Olaf and group. In the
meantime, there's that 'roll to munch on. Mm.

Aire has demolished her pastry by now, and is busy cleaning herself off. Olaf
attempts to help, but she somehow dances around his advances and ends up near
Dallan again. "Nice evening. We don't /have/ to go swimming, do we?" No
telling what her bathing suit would do once water-logged; no one look at
Olaf's sparkling eyes.

Dallaney is trying to avert hers, with success: she's practically studying the
sand beside her sitting mat. "Don't have to. It's getting cold soon,
anyway, and the water's too chill for--" The war of tact versus honesty
flops entirely as the berobed youngster begins making faces at Olaf. "Uh.
Aire. Do you /have/ to wear this-this..." Words fail her; the flapping hand
will have to suffice.

Chalis has disconnected.

Aire grimaces as she looks down at her outfit. "I don't know the official
weaver term for this sort of torture device," admits the girl, voice deepened
faintly by her chin being on her chest. "Someone suggested the red would go
with my hair, and how I always dress so plainly, and the gaggle of girls was
upon me in an instant." Fingers snap, emphasising the instantaniety of it. "I
was kinda hoping a certain someone would show up, if I had to be seen in
this..." she confesses in a mutter to Dallan. And that someone's /not/ Olaf,
who's ogling the cleavage-a-plenty.
Of other candidates, that is. Aire has very little.

Cervad startles awake, lifting his head in curiosity, then rustling his wings
and uncoiling.

Dallaney smirks, leaning closer. Avoiding any glances at that forbidden
sight, of course. "You shouldn't let people order you around like that," she
opines, shaking mahogany curls with vigour. A sip is taken, nonchalance
itself. "So. Who is it?"

Cervad flops down and goes instantly to sleep, limp like a kitten, delicate
nose tucked against his fawn breast

Aire goes home.

Mikani returns with another tray laden like the first; carefully she slips it
onto the table next to the other. /Now/ she can relax a bit, since she's done
hauling all the food she's made to the party. She slips a few 'rolls onto a
plate and makes her way over by the rest of the caniddates, studiously
avoiding the chatty-catty gaggle of gossiping girlflesh. She bites down on
her 'roll, and smiles at the gusto with which everybody is addressing their
food.

Dallaney is still on her mat by the beach, a plate beside her. Olaf's moved
off; that last face she made might have scared him of, or perhaps it was
Aire's disappearance-- Starting on her next pastry, she greets Mikani with a
four-fingered wave. "Hello!"

Mikani looks about and spies one of those slingback desert-style chairs that's
fairly close to Dallaney; she rushes forward and /juuuuuust/ beats out that
busty blonde.. cattiest of the gossipmongers. With an apologetic smile, she
settles herself into the chair a mere instant before the other girl sits
down. "Excuse me, but this seat's taken." The blonde looks down her nose and
snorts at Mikani, then moves back to her little clique, muttering "Well. I
never." Mikani levels a flat gaze at Istagirl
's departing back. "'Bout time," she replies, in a voice meant to carry,

"Not you, too!" Dallan is complaining, nodding at the ex-cook's dress.
Mikani's turning a few heads as she goes, namely that of Paslin and Ranton on
an adjacent mat. The boys blush on hearing the remark, and go back to their,
uh, drinks. Yes. "She deserved it," Dallan adds encouragingly. "You're
pretty fast."

On the other end of the beach, the strains of a gitar can be heard, playing an
old Ranges song. A loose group is gathering around the harper-candidate
who's strumming his instrument, and a couple of boys are trying to dance on
the sand.

Her cheeks darkening, Mikani nods her head. "Yeah, I know. But like I
mentioned the other day, I wanted to do something different. This is the most
different thing I could think of, wearing a dress." Her nose wrinkles a bit,
but then she smiles a Dallan again. "Thanks. Comes from a lifetime of racing
my siblings for the "best chair" in the house.. well, it was the best to us
kids, at least!" She chuckles at the mental image, causually tossing her
auburn curls, totally oblivious to the fact that she's turning heads or that
anyone's watching her.

Aire has arrived.

Dallaney ducks her head to approximate a nod. "A dress is different enough, I
suppose," says she gruffly, "I've never worn one. Except once, on a dare."
Which was when everyone got to laugh at her. "Is this one your mother gave
you?"

Aire got waylaid for some reason or another; the specifics are really quite
inconsequential. She returns towards the food table, ending up with
whatever's left of the sandwiches in hand as she drifts back towards Dallaney
and Mikani, sans Olaf. Silence is broken by a brief, "Hey," that announces
her entrance, mending itself as she waits for the topic of conversation.
Dresses, is it?

The scattered crowd has coalesced into distinctive clumps, selecting their own
mat or chairs by the shore. The daring ones are splashing in the water; the
wild have chosen to jig to the tune of a guitar on a makeshift dance floor.
Most of the food's gone, but not all. A pair of drudges scurry around,
trying to serve dessert.

Mikani shakes her head. "No, actually, my mother's never seen me in this
dress. Ny next-youngest sisters, Mirian and Kanira, pooled their resourses
and bought it, officially, but my older sister Nirami is the one who picked
it out. She told me 'Now that you've filled out some, it's time you had a
dress to display your assets.' Can you believe it? Assets?" She shakes her
head, and nods as Aire returns to the party. "Hey, yourself, Aire."

Eyochai has arrived.

Dallaney is talking about dresses? Oh, the horror. "Hey Aire," she pauses to
greet with another minimal wave. Ranton on the next mat smiles too, shaking
his mug at her amiably. "Don't know about /those/." Assets, you know. She
wrinkles face and forehead at the nearest person.

Aire finds herself tapping her foot along to the jig, vaguely annoyed but
deciding stopping would be futile; she'd just find herself doing it again
anyhow. "Assets? Oh, I know all about that. Just take off the 'ets'," she
comments with her usual dryness before volunteering further gleaned
information with a shrug. "You know girls. Everyone's out to snag a man, some
way or another. All some of 'em have is their body, though." This is stated
with a sagely nod, and a faint tinge of sadness for those so unpriveledged.
"Anyhow, did I miss anything good?" she asks, waving over her shoulder at
Eyochai.

Eyochai homes in on the table. Just because. That, and she's decided to forego
swimming tonight, what with a random bout of Feeling Ugly. Aire is argued
with, although only lightly for the moment. "/I'm/ not out to snag a man."
She's Special<tm>.

Eyochai
Steel-whipped gray glitters tempestuously in the glint of almond-shaped
eyes--they narrow gracefully beneath arched brows, and set a feline sort of
regality to her chiseled features. Beauty is a fickle thing, and there's none
of the classic sort to here...merely strong, strong character to etch a
jutting jaw and set of wry-twisted lips. No beak for a nose, but a ski-jump
slope, and high cheekbones set the trend for her lack of much spare flesh.
Wild, wild raven then coils in tumbled curls, a torrent flooding as far as
her shoulder blades, untamed and messy at near any time...that completes the
rather short portrait of this skinny, graceful girl.
Oh-so-daring, she wears a vivid orange; it claims her limbs in sinuous folds
of cool sisal that skillfully ignore the knobbiness of stringbean knees and
elbows. The burnoose is nomad-styled, almost, with tight cuffs for otherwise
baggy pants...but more wanton is the long-sleeved tunic, loose on arms, and
bodice-tight about her torso. There's even a scooping neckline, though
there's not much to be scooped to, and her head burrows in the coolness of a
hood.
She's been branded! White streaks through that bumble-bee mess of black and
yellow. Boo!
Spindly grace names her somewhere sixteen-ish.
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Ekhat Mroncae
Like, exasperated.

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, Mikani also denies any illicit feelings
about the Other Sex. "Me either. What would I want with a man, besides the
obvious.. which I am NOT interested in at all right now."

"You missed the bubblies," Dallan puts in solemnly to Aire, eyeing the
depleted trays. Again on the topic at hand, she shakes her head, voice husky
around that note, "No. I don't want any man. And /she/ doesn't." Right?
Right. "Mikani's just wearing that 'cause her sisters bought it for her."
So she hopes.

Chalis has connected.

Aire ahhs wisely at Dallan's explanation, giving Mikani a sympathetic stare.
One doesn't want to offend their siblings by not wearing their presents.
"I've already got a man, so I'm not out to snag any more." The bomb it
dropped with despicable indifference, just this side of
peering-down-at-the-nails-boredly.

Eyochai peers at Mikani. "Really? You're not? You should be. It's great.
Doesn't involve any serious snagging, either." She is nonplussed at Aire's
announcement. "Good for you. Any food here? 'm hungry."

The faraway tune gets louder as the gitarist is egged on by his comrades,
playing a hand-clapping, feet-stomping song.

Chalis shows back up after having to go do franath knows what. With a sigh
she stops halfway towards the various groups of people and sighs as she asks
no one in particular, "What'd I miss?"

Dallaney points at the plate on her mat. It's just sitting there, innocent
with the heap of 'rolls, cakes and sweetener-laden confections. "You can
have some of those." That's manners for you. Ignore the decided bristling
afterwards. "What, men?" Ugh.

Eyochai knew that food was there. Really she did. Regardless of prior
knowledge, however, she dives on the plate with gusto. "Thanks, Dallan!" she
manages around a two-fist-sized roundcake. All at once. My, what a big mouth
you have Granny... (repose)

"Well, he's not really a man... and we're not really together," Aire
deliberates, fumbling for a save as her announcement goes over like a lead
balloon. "It's just... You know, a friendship that's more than that." Friends
with benefits, eh? Eyochai's skill at putting away food causes her merely to
bat an eye, though an eyebrow attempts to twitchupwards. "Men?" she
volunteers, Chalis-wards.

Chalis nods and pouts slightly, "I missed men? Well sounds like I might have
missed some of the fun." She winks then tugs a bit of her dress back into
place as she moves to grab a little more food since she had to dash earlier.

Dallaney /was/ cowering over the aforementioned plate. She chews
thoughtfully, mug to lips, one sandelled foot tapping lightly in time to the
beat. "Do I know him?" she inquires of Aire, brashly. "Men." Snort.

"Well, if he's not really a man and you're not really together, why'd ye even
mention it?" Mymymy, doth jealousy rear it's ugly head in Mikani's life for
once? It sure looks to be that way... perhaps someone /had/ caught her eye.
She rises and dashes off towards the kitchens; she returns with a foodtrain
of drudges, all bringing out what look to be more sandwich fixings. "Since
folks are still hungry, I took the liberty of hitting up the head cook for
stuff to make some more sandwiches." Gee, guess who's changing the subject?
Or, at least, trying to...

Were Olaf here, he would've watched Chalis' adjustment with all the avid
attention of a holder at Hatching. Luckily, he's not. "Solandat," Aire
delivers to Dallaney, again dropping the name with a note of indifference, as
she first didn't go over well. Mikani is eyed speculatively: "We /were/
discussing men." The 'duh' is unspoken. "Oh, thanks," she chirps, happily
picking up on the kitchenfolk's change of subject.

"IknowIknowIknow." Eyo somehow manages to avoid spreading crumbs. She pauses
to swallow. "I know who Aire's guy is..." This is, of course, too late. Cause
Aire already said it. But Eyo looks vaguely satisfied anyway. She knew all
along. Tee-hee.

My my, the drudges are certainly working hard today. "I don't think /they/
need more sandwiches," Dallan comments of the dancing crowd. Aire's dry
humour must be catching on. "Oh, him," she goes on indifferently, plucking
on a breadroll. Solandat, indeed.

Chalis hasn't been thinking about men so once again she sticks some food in
her mouth happily being quiet though knowing she'll have to swim a little
extra to make sure she doesn't add any pounds. With a pause before she takes
a sip of some juice, "I haven't seen Sol around for a while. How's he been?"

Aire blushes - yes, that's an honest to goodness blush - faintly as she
remembers Eyochai knows, realizing how, ah, free her fellow candidate is with
that information. Dallan recieves a vague Stare of Death for being
non-plussed over her romantic intrest, emotion coloring her next action as
well. "Your guess is as good as mine," she huffs at Chalis, throwing arms up
in the air. "I think the riders found out, and gave us seperate chore rosters
on /purpose/."

Eyochai didn't know, she only guessed. But she guessed right, see? A mild
preen.

Ysabel wakes up from his nap.
Ysabel dozes off...

Chalis shrugs at the answer she gets from Aire and mumbles something about the
riders telling the candies they'd have no time for alla that. Not that
Chalis ever really thought about alla that to begin with. Once she tires of
eating she attempts to think of something to chat about. Oooo the lake,
"Anyone gone swimming yet?"

Ranton, the boy on the next mat, is dragged away by a pretty lass in search of
a dance partner. After they leave, a slower number begins, to give the
ex-harper's fingers a much-needed break.

Dallaney receives the stare with aplomb, blinking calmly in Aire's direction.
This she doesn't Get(tm). "Didn't see him here. Chores?" The grin that was
threatening does break over her dark features now as she savours breadroll's
crumbs. "They might have, you know. Re-lation-ships are not en-couraged."

Aire isn't /really/ doing alla that. Prude as a cloistered holder's daughter.
"Swimming?" she asks of Chalis, a sort of condescending chuckle that morphs
into some kind of evil snicker. "Wanna go? I was waiting for the guys to get
caught up with the girls -" Like poor, defenseless Ranton... "- before I went
in." The girl stands up on tiptoe, attempting to loom over Dallaney - and
impossible feat, of course - before stating crisply, "We're not having a
re-la-tion-ship. /Thank/. You."

Chalis raises a brow, "Why would you wait until then Aire? Makes no sense."
She winks then slips off her sandals before wading out into the water, glad
she has one one of her less bulky outfits.

"Well, it's what the riders say," Dallan retorts defensively, "Wasn't me who
came up with it." She mightn't be so crisp, nor so tall, but there's the
immense dignity she's mustered up. "If you're not you're not." Does that
make sense? She sidles aside to let Chalis and the others pass.

Aline has arrived.

Aire resists the impulse to sulk; first of all, it makes her appear Turns
younger than she really is, and second, it's a cop-out. "We... well, you know
guys. You've got to beat them over the head to get them to understand
something, and it takes a while to sink in, even then," she explains to
Chalis, trying to keep the bite out of her words. "And, do tell, dearest
Dallaney, since when have you been an apprentice of rider discipline?" Beware
the crouching tiger in the sweetness of voice.

Chalis raises a brow at Aire, "And what would swimming tell them Aire? That
it's hot and we need to cool off?" No she doesn't understand men, never has,
isn't going to start trying now. Much more fun without um.

Aline is too spiffy for her shirt and can do a little dance on the felinewalk.
Or, so she thinks. Sporting a light blue bathing-outfit and a small red
towel, the candidate makes her entrance. She seems to be a little into that
whole acting stage of life, and it surely becomes apparent to herself. "Hey
everybody, I'm here!" Okay, so - maybe everyone wasn't waiting for her. But,
could we play along?

Aline
A tall young women that reaches the height of 5'7 stands before you. Her crisp
brown hair trails flopishly down to her tender, small hips. Her facial
features are accented by greenish-blue eyes, a pale nose, and plush red lips
which are often times turned up in a big smile. Orange freckles scatter
around her face while her dainty ears hide behind her thick hair. A graceful
neck flows into her chest, long arms and legs allowing her to reach most
anything she needs.
Deep red overalls cover her body, from head to toe. In back of the overalls in
a simple white blouse, that ends at her wrists and goes down to her waist.
All of the clothing is pierced with scatter bits of paint, mixing in a
colorful rainbow of spectrum. Dancing blues' and yellows' color her
pitch-dark black boots, the splatter of paint evident all over her clothes.
This makes one clear and direct point: She's a painter.
Bleach White covers this single-looped knot. Nothing different and nothing
extrodinaire about it. All it does is show that Aline is a Igen Weyr
Candidate.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 2 minutes.
I'm a candidate. Do a little dance, mop the floors, and get chores tonight.
Get chores tonight.

Dallaney gets to her feet, just because. "It's Dallan to you," says she to
Aire, not bothering to keep tightness out of her voice. "Just telling you
the facts." She's looking right at the girl now, single-minded in pursuit of
Logic.

From Sky Above Weyr Lake, Isaramaath has arrived.
Isaramaath has arrived.
Hotaru releases the riding straps, scrambling down Isaramaath's butter gold
foreleg until she is low enough to jump to the ground below.

A gangly kid wanders at the fringes of the mats, holding some snacks. He
nudges Aline briefly, offering, then abruptly startles at a dragon's landing.

Aire glares faintly at Chalis over her shoulder - can't she see she's having a
battle of egos, here? "Of course, Dallan. How silly of me to have...
slipped," she chirps, grinning lopsidedly. "Thank you for the facts,
/Dallan/. I'd never have thought you'd be one to follow the rules so
perfectly." She tries hard not to flinch upon the descending of the dragon,
but still ducks, ever so slightly.

Hotaru dismounts with a relish and style that is all her own. Flouncing back
her short obsidian hair, she scans the group. "I heard there was a party?"
She is not one to make a subtle appearance. Spotting a
once-fellow-candidate-now-turned-candidate-again, she hops over to Dallaney.
"Dallaney!"

Hotaru
Obsidian hair falls to just about chin level and is so dark that it glints
purple in just the right light. Nary a curl clings to the mass of black hair
to take away from it's shine, and shine it does. Silky bangs hang over
alabaster forehead, parting slightly over the point where her eyebrows meet
her nose. Usually her big dark-violet eyes are blinking the stuff away, but
a recent hair-cut has left her bangs to fall just below her eyebrows. Eyes
so dark blue as to seem violet are large and round, framed by thin eyebrows
and thick, long eyelashes. Mouth is small and rosebud shaped, given to quick
smiles that reveal crooked front teeth. She is petit and very delicate
looking with small bones and skin so pale as to seem like alabaster or some
smooth marble. Despite her frail looks however, she carries such abundant
energy that it can be noticed just in the way she holds her small frame.
Always moving and on the go, she is.
Cute is the word for this goldling's riding leathers. Form fitting black
caresses her petite, frail upper body to perfection, showing off what little
curves her youthful body is beginning to develop. Leather coat covers a deep
violet shirt whose collar comes out and over the collar of the jacket, giving
some bit of color and life. Big, shiny, dark violet buttons prance down the
jacket, keeping it closed. Sleeves are long and end in wide cuffs that have
little violet bows on the outside of the wrists. Stylized designs are done
in violet thread across the breast of the jacket in the form of what looks
like little rampant bunnies, giving it some color and definition. Leather
pants are tight and show off thin, frail legs. For a bit of frivolity, the
pants end in wide ruffles down around her ankles complete with a little
violet bow on each ankle. Shiny, almost patent, black boots peek out from
under the ruffled hem of the pants and though it can't be seen, they lace up
to about her mid-calf. The boots have a bit of a heel on them so they add an
extra 3 inches to her normally 4 foot 9 frame.
A double cord curves into the double loop knot, marking her as one of Telgar's
Junior Weyrwomen. Old blends with new as the strands from each of the other
weyrwoman's knots blend well with the new strands that form the cord for
Hotaru's knot. A strand of butter gold is interwoven through the knot to
denote her as rider of gold Isaramaath.
She is awake and looks alert.

Aline looks at the gangl-ish kid, fluttering her eyebrows. "Don't mind if I
do, thank you." she says, light giggle. Someone woke up on the right side of
the bed, for once in her life. "I appreciate your kind generousity and would
like to thank you immensel--" Something stops, and oh - it's Hotaru. Well,
peeking in different directions. "Oh, I remember her." Aline says, retorical
mode. The snack is picked up, and munched on

Mikani's not having much (read: any) luck in steering the conversation away
from the topic of Men. She finally gives up and moves over to the food table,
stalking the fixings for a wherry and cheese sandwich on a crusty sourdough
baguette. She pauses by the mostly-depleted bowl of greens, and fishes out a
large piece of lettuce, which she also slips into her baguette-wich. She
raises the sandwich in the air as a wave to the approaching Aline. "Yes, we
can see that." She turns and moves toward Dallaney, sandwich risen to her
lips. That tasty morsel doesn't cross her lips, however, when she finds
herself in the position to defend her friend. "It says right in the rules,
which were posted in the barracks when we first got here that Candidates are
to have no relationships with the opposite sex." One has to wonder just what
her position is in this whole MenThing. As the gold dragon lands and her
rider comes hopping at Dallaney, Mikani lets out a startled "Eeep!" and
scrambles out of the way while managing a creditable bow for the goldrider.

Chalis tries really hard not to start giggling at the whole thing as she
floats along in the lake. She recognizes Hottie from Telgar and waves in her
direction, "Hello there." With a yawn she adds, "This is no fun without
anyone else in the water you know." with that she wades out of the water and
wrings out her dress before carefully tugging it back into place.

Dallaney crinkles her cheeks, faint splotches of red and brown flashing across
her skin. "Oh, all right. You all know my other name." That's fine,
really. She gulps a steadying breath, eyes dark on Aire. "Didn't say
anything about following the rules. I do remember them but that's about it."
Growl--Uh--distraction. "Hey there, Hotaru."

The gangly kid grins foolishly at Aline. Have another?

Hotaru is nonplussed with what seems to be a bit of friendly banter. This
outgoing goldrider does feel it necessary to interject, "Relationships are
bad.." with a little wave of her hand back and forth. Never was one who
could keep her big mouth shut. However, her charming 1000watt grin in place,
the little bundle of energy gives everyone a happy look. "Hi all!"
Isaramaath is not one to miss out on swimming, especially if there is one who
lonely in them thare waters. With a flick of golden tail, the dragon prances
lightly, her raptor sharp claws click-clicking, towards the water. Swim
time! "What's everyone up to? Dallan," a name by which the others seem to
call Dallaney, "you are a candidate again. Congratulations!"

Aline looks at the gangly kid, and even though Aline is lanky - she doesn't
want to be a blimp anytime soon. Then again, these things are really -really-
good. May I stress - 'really'. "Well, okay." she says, laughing lightly with
a goofy smile. Another one of those crunchy treats are picked up, and Aline
makes small talk. "So, do you come around here often?" Ri-ght.

Aire manages to keep up her appearance of The Good Candidate, salvaging it
from the imminent catfight as she does her respectful
bow-shuffle-grab-the-bathing-suit-top-before-it-falls that she managed for
Siobhan, earlier. "Well, glad I have someone to learn me good," she chirps at
Dallan, hands folded behind her back sweetly.

Chalis giggles as the gold wades out into the water. She changes her
direction rather quickly and heads back into the water, dress slightly
floating along with her.

Dallaney waves her hand at the now-Telgarian: dismissal, in non-malignant
fashion. "Thanks," she utters in an aside, half-grateful. A nod goes to
Aire, in apparent acceptance of her sweetness. "Okay, as long as you think
so--"

The boy -- he's really, really young too -- hovers around Aline obligingly.
"I live in the lower caverns," a shake of the ruffled head, "With my ma and
the others." He tries for decency, straightening with that plate in careful
balance.

Eyochai has disconnected.

Aline looks at the boy, questioning his dignity. "In the lower caverns?" Like
the barracks were ever the lap of luxury. "You mean, you live there in the
middle of no where?" Aww, lets make motherly coo's. Poor boy. Aline happens
to try to rub the boys head in comfort - but it might as well come out as the
alfalfa look.

Aire growls faintly under her breath as Dallan is impervious to her sarcasm,
half-determined to defend her pride and half-restrained by Hotaru's presence.
"Mmph!" the girl squeals in impotency, fists clenched at her sides. Even
Aline's touching scene with the little boy doesn't smooth her ruffled
feathers over.

Dismissal? She has been dismissed? Hotaru huffs lightly before helping
herself to something to eat. "I'm Hotaru of Telgar Wery.." she adds, just in
case anyone didn't know. Having been drilled about her manners, she tries
not to forget. Others bows are rewarded with a bright, charming smile from
this half-woman half-child. Caught in limbo, she is. "And that," she
points, "is Isaramaath." She beams cutely.

Isaramaath is enjoying the water with way too much glee. Larger than even
Rosalth, the big gold uses the time to splish the water with her wings,
earning her a swift look from the lifemate. Chalis, her water partner, is
given a curious sniff.

Chalis giggles at the sniff, "Hello to you too Isa." She hopes the shortening
of the name is alright, she's too 'sleepy' to say the whole thing.

Dallaney tears herself away from Aire the weyrbrat for a moment or two.
"Sorry Hotaru," she shrugs at the 'rider, gaze shifting towards her opponent
again. "We can't seem to agree on this." She scratches at her head,
mirroring the gestures of Aline's boy. Itchy scalp, you know.

Mikani didn't know. "Well met, Hotaru of Telgar, and my regards to your gold
Isaramaath. I'm Mikani of Igen, former cook's assistant, now Candidate." And
ain't she proud of the fact, too! You can tell it in the possessive little
stress she puts on the words 'Igen' and 'Candidate'. "You have a very
beautiful dragon, Hotaru." she compliments, a tad jealous that she's not
dressed for waterplay.

Hotaru turns her rather bright expression Mikani's way. "Congratulations to
you too! And Isaramaath sends her thanks as well." Gold does tend to preen
out there in the water. Chalis is turned to next, "Isa's fine. She's rather
fond of nicknames." Dallaney is turned to next with a confused expression.
"Agree on what?" Nosy little junior weyrwoman, she is.

Aire peers up at Isaramaath with a measure of wariness and respect, shuffling
her feet in the sand as it carries her centimeters farther from the gold.
"Aye, well met," she pipes up, muttering something about 'Aire', 'Igen', and
'Candidate'. That's the important bits, anyhow. Bikini top gets tug, and
Dallaney recieves a tounge stuck out at her behind her back.

Isaramaath has a sense of the playful within her. Sinking into the lake so
that only her eyes were peeking out of the water, she eyes those on shore, a
little gleam in those slowly whirling facets.

Hey. Since when did he, become 'Aline's Boy'. No, no. "How do you cope under
such hard restrictions." She was never a princess and never high in rank.
Just one day of pride pushes on her. "So, you don't live in the dorms?"
Alert: Naive.

Chalis nods at Hottie's answer, "Isa it is then." She then giggles a little
more as the gold sinks under the water. She takes a hint weather implied or
not and does the same, eyeing those on shore along with the gold.

Dallaney misses the stuck-out tongue, unfortunately. "Wow. Your
dragon--Isa--she's grown well." Dallan seems surprised as she whips her
glance from water to shore and back again, past Aire and beyond. Her
extended hands turn in response to the question, palms up, while lips quirk
meaningfully. "Don't know for sure why."

"Dorms. But I live down there in the caverns," the kid insists to Aline. He
looks up at her, blue eyes blinking, slippers shuffling. Innocents, both;
plus his pastries need to be distributed, don't they?

Hotaru jerks her head towards her dragon and gasps. "Isaramaath! Don't you
even think about it!" Nodding to Dallaney, she grins, "Thanks... but I must
go."

Isaramaath lowers her golden foreleg, allowing Hotaru to scramble up and catch
ahold of the riding straps, which enables her to climb the rest of the way up
and settle between desert gold neckridges.

Mikani's leafgreen orbs narrow thoughtfully, gaze ticking out to dragon then
to fellow Candidates and visiting goldrider. She gets the strangest feeling
that something's going to happen, but since the conversation has been
successfully steered away from the topic of the Opposite Sex, Mikani's just
as pleased as she can be.

Isaramaath catches skeins of air with desert golden wings toward Sky Above
Weyr Lake.

Aire turns on one heel slowly, a bit disconcerted by the floating island of
dragon; like the tip of the iceberg, with all the scary bits below what you
can see. "She's... rather large. And impressive." Frightening. However, the
rider seems to the placating the beast, and all is well.

From Sky Above Weyr Lake, Isaramaath goes ::between::

"Don't do it," Dallan warns. But she's already gone, winging upwards. "Whew.
Dragons can be weird sometimes," the comment goes to a random candidate.

Chalis pouts as her 'playmate' is forced to leave and wades back to the beach
again. Not attempting to fix her dress this time. Instead she heads for the
klah if there is any, "Don't know what's gotten into y'all tonight. Rather
... fiesty."

Aline looks towards the boy, not questioning again. "Uhm." -- "Oh, I see. The
lower caverns." Right. She knew that. In a different world, perhaps. "Okay,
why don't you deliver some of them." So, I can stop this blush from going all
over my entire face.

Blue-eyed boy scoots on the beckoning of a kitchen drudge. Not without a
gap-toothed grin at Aline, though.

"She was just about ready to splash us, I bet. That dragon had a look that
reminded me of one of my little brothers when he was trying to pull a prank.
Mik. He'd run and hide under his covers on his bed, with just his eyes
peeking out. " Mikani laughs, and plops down on a chaior next to Leseela,
nodding her head absently in time wiht the gitar-strummer. "Hey, Lees. Hope
you enjoyed your meatrolls." Both girls chuckle, knowing Leseela's fondmess
for Miki-rolls.

Aline smiles faintly, and the princess-disguse dissolves. She walks slowly
over towards Mikani, offering a small smile. So, how about those Yankees.
"How's...up. Everything going." she whispers, taking a breath every so often.

Aire quietly slinks out of range before Dallaney can resume the argument. Just
a few more days of avoiding the candidate, and then she's either free, or
forgotten.

Aire goes home.

Chalis shrugs a bit as everything seems to kind of break up slowly. She grabs
a couple little cakes and leans against a table, chatting with a few random
people.

Dallaney purses her lips at Miki and Lees. "She's huge. Bigger than we
thought she'd be, I'll bet." In that spate of wondering, Aire's up and left,
so she glances speculatively at the pair instead. "You can't swim with those
things on, can you?"

The crowd that once was resembles clumps now: trios and foursomes standing
about on the beach. The gitar has wound down as well, with the exhausted
harper sprawled across two chairs, head on pillowed hands.

Aline gets taken down by a platform, the simple lava lamps are the only thing
you still see.

Mikani goes home.

Chalis smiles and waves at everyone as they dash. Then excusing herself from
her current little group she walks over to where Dallan is, "Well I think it
went well. Though I'm sorry I had to miss most of it."

Dallaney didn't think so; she busies herself with bidding goodbye to Lees and
Thorian, then, polishing off the last breadroll, she starts directing the
pair of drudges in clearing the table. "Mmrph. We need the beach clean,
y'hear? -- Hey, Chalis, thought you'd left. Was that Gerit you were with?"

Chalis hmms, so that's why no one would answer her, they thought she'd gone.
She shrugs ever so slightly, running a hand through her hair, "I suppose it
might have been? Wasn't paying much attention, just chatting ya know."

"He's not a bad kid," Dallan concludes of said Gerit. "Stays in his own turf,
picks up after himself and all that." She shuffles a few steps down the
shore, nearer to the dozing ex-harper, whom she shouts at. "Wake up, you!"
His chairs are needed.

Chalis blinks and swats at Dallan, "Let him sleep. No one'll miss the chairs.
Besides, does no good to shout at harpers." That she's learned quite well in
the past. She then plops down right where she's standing and sticks her
sandals back on her feet.

Dallaney eyes the sandals, forgets the harper. "What're you doing that for?"

Chalis shrugs a bit, "Well I figured I might as well stick them on so I can
help clean up. Won't catch me wandering around the weyr barefooted."

"There aren't too many rocks around here," Dallan mentions, bending to scoop
up a forgotten plate, perhaps used as a frisbee earlier. The dragons claw
stone smooth and all that. "There's just this part for us to clean up. The
drudges will do the rest."

Chalis smirks, "But still I don't want to wander around barefooted."

Dallaney is curious. Plate is hefted. "Why not?"

Chalis shrugs, "I might be willing to go around halfclothed but not
barefooted. Something I had drilled into me as a weyrbrat."

Since she's gone so far, Dallan might as well. "--I've always wanted to own a
good, sturdy pair of boots," she confides, then pauses to check for a
reaction, just as if she were conferring some great honour on Chalis. Tramp,
tramp, and lo, there's a fork to join the plate.

Chalis raises a brow slightly, "Boots? Why boots? Your feet are so ...
confined in them." No she won't be barefooted but she doesn't really like
shoes all that much.

You say, "I don't know about that. But boots would be good for walking long
distances. Farther than the Igen Ranges, if I had enough food and drink."
It's time to turn back along that stretch of beach, which she does, expecting
Chalis to follow. "Boots are good."

Chalis raises another brow, "Why would you want to do that?" She does indeed
follow, picking up this and that as she goes.

"'Cause I want to /see/ other places, for myself." Not through others' eyes,
no, that's not for Dallan.

Eyochai has connected.

Chalis nods, "There are other ways to travel though. Why walk?"

Eyochai has disconnected.

Dallaney steps forward slightly to put that plate and fork on the rest. The
result is a satisfying 'clink'. Musical. "I'd like to do it myself, if I go
at all," she informs, "Besides, it's more ... more... real."

Chalis nods a bit, "Perhaps you should chat with someone who's done something
like that before. I think one of the harpers here did it." She wrinkles her
nose as she tries to think of the name, "Avaly is her name I think ..."

"Didn't know she did that," Dallan nods, shrugging. The plates are cleared,
and the drudges are preparing to remove the table too. "What about a swim?
Just to cool off?"

Chalis giggles and pulls at her dress, "This thing is still a little damp but
ok."

Dallaney dashes off her sandals and bolts. To the lake!

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